15 March 2015

The Badger

by John Clare

The
badger grunting on his woodland trackWith shaggy hide and sharp
nose scrowed with blackRoots in the bushes and the woods, and
makesA great high burrow in the ferns and brakes.With nose on
ground he runs an awkward pace,And anything will beat him in the
race.The shepherd's dog will run him to his denFollowed and
hooted by the dogs and men.The woodman when the hunting comes
aboutGoes round at night to stop the foxes outAnd hurrying
through the bushes to the chinBreaks the old holes, and tumbles
headlong in.

When
midnight comes a host of dogs and menGo out and track the badger
to his den,And put a sack within the hole, and lieTill the
old grunting badger passes bye.He comes and hears—they let the
strongest loose.The old fox hears the noise and drops the
goose.The poacher shoots and hurries from the cry,And the old
hare half wounded buzzes bye.They get a forked stick to bear him
downAnd clap the dogs and take him to the town,And bait him
all the day with many dogs,And laugh and shout and fright the
scampering hogs.He runs along and bites at all he meets:They
shout and hollo down the noisy streets.

He
turns about to face the loud uproarAnd drives the rebels to their
very door.The frequent stone is hurled where e'er they go;When
badgers fight, then every one's a foe.The dogs are clapt and
urged to join the fray;The badger turns and drives them all
away.Though scarcely half as big, demure and small,He fights
with dogs for bones and beats them all.The heavy mastiff, savage
in the fray,Lies down and licks his feet and turns away.The
bulldog knows his match and waxes cold,The badger grins and never
leaves his hold.He drives the crowd and follows at their
heelsAnd bites them through—the drunkard swears and reels.

The
frighted women take the boys away,The blackguard laughs and
hurries on the fray.He tries to reach the woods, an awkward
race,But sticks and cudgels quickly stop the chase.He turns
again and drives the noisy crowdAnd beats the many dogs in noises
loud.He drives away and beats them every one,And then they
loose them all and set them on.He falls as dead and kicked by
boys and men,Then starts and grins and drives the crowd
again;Till kicked and torn and beaten out he liesAnd leaves
his hold and cackles, groans, and dies.

Some
keep a baited badger tame as hogAnd tame him till he follows like
the dog.They urge him on like dogs and show fair play.He
beats and scarcely wounded goes away.Lapt up as if asleep, he
scorns to flyAnd seizes any dog that ventures nigh.Clapt like
a dog, he never bites the menBut worries dogs and hurries to his
den.They let him out and turn a harrow downAnd there he
fights the host of all the town.He licks the patting hand, and
tries to playAnd never tries to bite or run away,And runs
away from the noise in hollow treesBurnt by the boys to get a
swarm of bees.